


Old Ghosts in the City

by killanine



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes’s Post-Winter Soldier Hydra Revenge World Tour, Captain America Steve Rogers, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve has a lot of guilt, Steve needs a lot of therapy, Werewolf Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 15:11:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19726186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killanine/pseuds/killanine
Summary: Bucky goes on his Revenge World Tour. Steve chases after him. There may or may not be some lycanthropy involved.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AraniaArt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AraniaArt/gifts).



> A huge thank you to AraniaArt for her beautiful art, her beta work, and her incredible patience with me. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
> 
> Also thanks to the Cap RBB mods for organizing this entire event.

Someone had been going around destroying Hydra bases. No, not just _someone._ Steve was pretty sure it was Bucky. And yet, Bucky stayed infuriatingly, perpetually, one step ahead of Steve. Steve felt like he was following a faint, barely-there trail of breadcrumbs every time he showed up to a Hydra base to find it already burnt down. Every time he read another news article detailing the mysterious explosion of another building with suspected Hydra ties.

Steve and Sam, who’d come along good-naturedly like the perfect amazing friend/human being he was, followed the breadcrumbs all over the world. They zigzagged from New York to Madrid to Anchorage to Vancouver to Santa Fe to London. Steve was going to owe Sam so much after this, as if he didn’t already. If for nothing else then for keeping him from going insane when he would have had nothing but his own loneliness and longing and frustration for company.

It was Steve’s first time in London since he was dug out of the Arctic ice, and just like his first few months back in New York, he was assaulted by his memory of what the city used to look like. He couldn’t get away from it. That corner with a liquor store used to be a bombed-out butcher shop that had half its outer wall torn down by Nazi air raids. On another street was a small church, and behind his eyelids Steve saw the same building, just 70 years in the past, acting as a refuge for the displaced in the bombed out city. And maybe it made him an old man, but he couldn’t help but be nostalgic for those times. Not for the society, god no, and sure, there was a war on, but he had the Commandos, and Peggy. And _Bucky._ Sure, Bucky had been more distant in the war compared to living together in Brooklyn, but _god_ , Bucky was _there,_ close to him, within reach. Looking back now, he realized. He hadn’t known how good he had it back then.

Hydra had decided to operate their London operations out of a pharmaceutical lab on the outskirts of the city, and the explosion was first passed off as an industrial accident, before word spread of all the employees’ Hydra ties. Thanks to Natasha, Steve was on site the day after the explosion. Still. Nothing but the bombed-out, burnt down remains of the base stood to greet him.

Sam blew out a breath of air, his hands on his hips. “Your boy sure did a number on this base, huh.” He stood looking at the brick dust and chunks of plaster scattered all over the floor. There, in the corner, a couple office chairs, mangled beyond repair. The bodies of the Hydra agents had all already been taken in by whichever forensics division had jurisdiction here. The computers used to be sleek, futuristic, but now every single one was smashed, their contents, along with any intel, surely destroyed. That was if Bucky hadn’t left something for him to find, Steve’s traitorous brain supplied. No matter how many cities he and Sam flew into only to find the ashes that Bucky left behind, Steve wouldn’t give up hope. Couldn’t give up hope. Surely, if he just looked hard enough, carefully enough, he’d find _something_ that could lead him back to Bucky. He’d find some way to get Bucky to trust him, to let him in.

Steve sighed. “There doesn’t seem to be anything here.” He looked to where Sam was dusting ashes off a PC case that looked a little better off than its peers, yet was still far from salvageable. “Why don’t you head back to the hotel, get some rest. I’m sure Natasha will send us more intel soon.”

Sam glanced over at him, eyebrow raised. “And you?”

Steve looked away, because sometimes it felt like Sam could practically read his mind just by looking at his face. “I’ll stick around for a bit, see if we can’t find something useful.”

Sam’s other eyebrow joined his first.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be here long. It’s not like I’m gonna sit in these ashes and mope for hours.”

“You’d better not. Because buddy, if you’re not back at the hotel by nightfall, I’m gonna drag you out of here, sit you down, and you, me, and Natasha are gonna have a long talk about healthy coping mechanisms.”

Steve knew that was no idle threat. He did _not_ want a repeat of Sam and Natasha telling him that they were worried about him, with matching expressions of concern bordering on pity.

“I won’t, I promise.”“Fine, alright. I’ll get a chance to shower without you using up all the hot water, maybe sleep off some of this jet lag.”

“You do that,” Steve said, with as reassuring a smile as he could manage.

By the look Sam shot him, it wasn’t all that convincing. But he still left the building, leaving Steve in a glorified pile of ashes and destroyed office equipment.

Steve sighed, again. He was losing hope, and he _couldn’t afford_ to lose hope. He had to believe that Bucky was out there, and he had to believe that he could reach him. Otherwise, what was the alternative? 

\----------------

Steve picked through the remains of the base for hours, supposedly for intel, but mostly hoping desperately to catch some glimpse, some clue of where Bucky was, of where he might be headed next. As usual, there was nothing.

He headed back to the hotel, trying to school his face into a neutral expression so that Sam wouldn’t look at him with that too-understanding expression on his face. From there, well, he’d do what he did in the other cities with destroyed Hydra bases. While waiting for Natasha to send them their next location, Steve would, sometimes alone, sometimes with Sam, hang around London for the next week, investigating whether there was any other Hydra activity in the city. Steve didn’t expect there to be any. If nothing else, Bucky was _extremely thorough_ , if his past experience in Madrid and Anchorage and Vancouver and Santa Fe was to be trusted. With the complete destruction of the base and the Hydra personnel who occupied it, any Hydra operatives let alive would be cut off, disorganized and forced into inactivity. 

Ostensibly Steve used the time to look for Bucky, hoping to catch some glimpse of him in the city surrounding the base he had just destroyed. He knew he probably looked like a periscope, with his head swiveling around every which way, peering into dark alleyways and up rooftops, but he didn’t care. Sam surely noticed, and no doubt knew exactly what he was doing, but thankfully chose not to comment on it.

And so it went.

\--------------

Natasha called three days later. She’d gotten word of a still active Hydra base in Boston that was starting to encroach into New York, taking over operations from the New York bases that Bucky had already destroyed. She thought it was likely that the Winter Soldier would show up there soon, probably out of concern that Hydra could proliferate and recolonize New York.

Steve privately thought that maybe Bucky still held a soft spot for New York, still thought of the city as home. He had targeted those bases first, after all.

According to the intel Natasha had compiled, the Boston base would be well-guarded, with extensive security. Around the base, Hydra was as active as ever, seemingly untouched by the disorganization and confusion that had overwhelmed the other east coast bases after the shitshow of Insight.

\-------------

Steve was running surveillance on a rooftop a block and a half away from the Boston Hydra base when he saw it.

What _was_ that? Steve could swear it had _fur._ And long, sharp claws. If Bucky was here, if that _thing_ had hurt Bucky-

He didn’t know what he would do.

But it didn’t matter if Bucky was here or not. That creature was a monster, and if it had hurt people, well. It was Steve’s job to protect them.

He went raring after the creature as it leapt from rooftop to rooftop. Out of habit, he reached behind him for his shield, but. Damnit. He’d left it back in the hotel room. This was supposed to be surveillance _only,_ damnit. And of course, in the back of his mind, Steve always harbored thoughts of finding Bucky, of bringing him in from the cold. Maybe he sometimes fantasized that this reunion would feature long-overdue, passionate kisses, that Bucky would come running into his arms. But, well— if he didn’t voice them out loud then they didn’t count, right? He already felt guilty enough thinking about it. He really shouldn’t expect Bucky to return his feelings. After all, 70 years and a boatload of shit separated Steve and Bucky now from the Steve and Bucky of the 1940s. He wasn’t even sure if they were going to be Steve and Bucky after this. But no matter. He wasn’t going to give up on his friend until Bucky pried him off with a crowbar. And even then, he might take some extra convincing.

Steve nearly fell on his face as he tripped on a stray roof shingle. Well, that would teach him to entertain an inner monologue while he was chasing a monster across rooftops. And it definitely was a monster, or at least, not human. In the moonlight, Steve could see its broad back and shoulders, the _fur_ that covered every surface of the creature, until- was the thing wearing _Kevlar?_

__

The creature stopped, and turned its head to the left, away from Steve. He didn’t have any weapons on him, fuck he didn’t even have his shield. But it didn’t matter. The creature definitely wasn’t human, and Steve was never one to stand aside while other people got hurt.

He flung himself at the creature, and it snarled as the two of them went tumbling down the slanted roof. They rolled to a stop at a flat ledge, and then the creature- it was huge. It was so much stronger than him, and Steve couldn’t budge, pinned as he was beneath the creature’s foot.

And its claws, each looking like small daggers, flashed in the air, preparing to slash across Steve’s face. More than anything, Steve wished desperately that he’d brought his shield.

Steve refused to close his eyes, but there was nothing he could do besides mentally prepare to be mauled.

Until the claws stopped, inches in front of his eyes. And in that moment of stillness, Steve noticed something that he hadn’t seen in his haste to stop the creature. Was that hand- paw- made of _metal?_ He lifted his head, followed the silver gleam of the metal in the moonlight. Up, and up- was the entire _arm_ metal? He craned his head, and- _there_. On the shoulder, a distinctive red star. The memory of Bucky’s metal arm flashed in Steve’s mind as he lay there gaping, shocked into stillness.

“ _Bucky?”_

The creature— Bucky- lifted its foot off Steve’s chest, and Steve scrabbled backwards—the roughness of the roof digging into his palms—away from those sharp, dangerous claws.

And as he watched, eyes wide, the creature- shrank. And changed, the mask shifting downwards, until it was looped loosely under its jaw, the plates on the metal hand rearranging themselves, the metal claws retracting. ? Until it _was_ Bucky standing in front of him. He would recognize that profile anywhere, even if Bucky wasn’t looking at him, preoccupied with tightening the straps around his tac vest.

Steve continued to stare as Bucky moved onto the straps around his thighs. When he finally looked up at Steve, he looked exactly like the man Steve had faced on those D.C. streets, if a little less clean shaven. But completely human. Steve continued to gape in shock, unable to form words.

“Steve.” Bucky’s voice was low, calm, cutting through Steve’s confusion.

“I- what?”

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest. “What.”

Steve was bamboozled. “I- You- What? You’re a- a wolf?”

Bucky shrugged, seemingly nonchalant. “A werewolf, I guess.”

Steve still didn’t know what to say. So naturally, he blurted the first thing that came to mind. “But the moon’s not full?”

Bucky rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Those are just urban legends, Stevie. I don’t lose control and become a rampaging wolf on the full moon. I can change whenever I want.” He tilted his head, still looking down at Steve. “Are you going to get up?”

Steve hadn’t even noticed that he was still sitting on his ass from when the wolf- _Bucky_ \- had knocked him down. He scrambled to his feet.

Bucky stood still as a statue, just a few feet between them, his face revealing nothing.

“Bucky.”

Bucky just stood there. “That’s my name, pal. Don’t wear it out.”

Steve was- gobsmacked, to say the least. He’d been expecting Bucky to be like he was in DC—oblivious to his own name. “You-. You know me?”

“Of course I know you. You think I’d have let anyone else tail me across a block and a half of rooftops?”

Steve’s heart leapt. But still, that- that didn’t mean anything. “Do you remember me?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Don’t push it, Steve.”

Steve raised his hands and took a mental step back. No pushing, okay, he could do that. At least- he could try and do that.

Bucky sighed. “My head is- it’s Swiss cheese. It’s a moth-eaten sweater. My memory might as well be a virus-infected hard drive from 1991. I don’t remember everything and to be honest with you? I don’t know if I want to remember everything. So whatever you’re looking for- if you want me to get all nostalgic with you about whatever you and your Bucky got up to when you were little fuckin’ match boys- well, I’m sorry pal. It’s not gonna happen.”

Steve blinked. Then blinked again. That wasn’t- “No, Bucky. That’s not what I’m trying to do. I- I read your file. The Winter Soldier file. I’m just trying to-“

But Bucky interrupted him. “You read my file?”

Steve nodded. And he watched as a wall slammed down over Bucky’s face. Where he had been cautious, careful, he now looked cold, completely blank.

“Then you know what I did. What I’ve done. So? What, are you here to take me in? Arrest me?”

“No! No, Buck. I would never.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I- I just want to help you. On the helicarrier, you- well, you didn’t look so good, pal.”

“And why would you want to help _me_?”

“Because you’re my friend, Buck! Because I’m with you ‘till the end of the line!”

“Maybe Bucky was your friend back then. But now? I don’t know who I am. I know that I’m a murderer. I’ve killed innocent people, Steve. I once strangled a 5-year old girl with my bare hands, like it was nothing! Like she was nothing! She was just fucking collateral damage and I barely even blinked before I killed her. And that just happens to be one that I remember. Who the fuck knows how many innocent people I’ve been made to forget. And you? The fucking golden boy of America? You’re going to stand there and say that you want to help _me_?” Bucky sneered and turned away. “Save it for someone who’s actually worth it. Someone who isn’t me.”

“I-“ Steve stumbled over his words. He wasn’t expecting Bucky to be so, well, _adamant_ about his own self-worth. Or rather, his lack of self-worth. He’d thought that Bucky might feel guilty about his time as the Winter Soldier, but it still broke his heart to hear Bucky confirm it. Out of anyone, it wasn’t Bucky who should feel guilty.

“Maybe Captain America is the golden boy of the country, but honestly? Fuck him. I’m not him. He’s just a persona, a symbol that got away from who I really was a long time ago.”

Bucky turned back towards him.

“Look, I know you’re not the same Bucky from the 1940s. I don’t expect you to be. I spent 70 years buried under a sheet of ice in the Arctic, Buck. I woke up in a world where I didn’t know anyone. Where absolutely everything was different. You think I’m the same person I was back then? I’ve changed, you’ve changed, I don’t give a _flying fuck._ I’m still with you ‘till the end of the line.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched as he stared back at Steve.

“Don’t _test_ me on this, Buck. I don’t care if you say you’re not worth it, because _I_ think you are.”


	2. Chapter 2

Steve didn’t know what to say. “So you’re, uh, you’re a werewolf.”

Bucky blinked at him, poker face still completely intact. Steve just wanted to get through to _him_ , not this blank face he was putting on for show.

“How?” Steve didn’t know if it was considered rude to ask, but he had to know. “When?”

Bucky stayed silent. Was it considered rude to ask? Maybe it was. Maybe Bucky just didn’t want to talk about it. If that were the case, Steve would respect it. He opened his mouth, about to take the questions back, about to tell Bucky that he didn’t have to answer, if he didn’t want to.

But Bucky spoke up first. “I don’t. I don’t remember everything. Hydra wiped me. _A lot._ I don’t remember the first time I changed, but it was when Hydra had me.” He lowered his eyes, looking down at the floor. “After I fell from the train.”

“You remember that?” Steve’s voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Bucky looked back up at Steve. He nodded.

“Bucky.” Steve reached out towards Bucky. He wanted so badly to hug him, but he stopped himself. Maybe Bucky wouldn’t appreciate the contact. After all, this was about comforting Bucky. What Steve wanted didn’t matter right now. “I’m so sorry.” He scoffed. “That doesn’t even cover it. God I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Steve.”

“I should’ve caught you.” Steve thought about that moment all the time, endlessly. How he should have reached farther, just that little bit more. How he should have jumped, too. How he should have come back after. How he should have looked for Bucky, or at least his body.

Bucky shook his head. “You couldn’t have known.”

Steve wished that were enough. But there were just _so many things_ he should have done. Hydra was to blame, sure, but there was no way that he wasn’t also partly at fault. But he supposed that now wasn’t the time for that. It wasn’t about him, after all. “How did you even _survive_?”

Bucky looked confused.

Steve clarified. “The fall, I mean. We thought you couldn’t have survived that fall from the train. We thought it wasn’t possible.” His voice grew hoarse. “That’s why we didn’t look for you, after.”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure. I think Zola did something to me, at Azzano. I remember pieces. From the war. The Howlies.” Bucky fell back into silence, but before Steve could speak, Bucky spoke up again. “I remember I used to run. At night. In the forest. I had so much energy, it felt like my body was buzzing, like it would burn up if I didn’t _move._ And the first few times I ran in the forest, everything felt so _loud._ It felt like I was stepping on every single leaf, snapping every little twig that I possibly could. So I learned to be quieter. Didn’t want you to know. That something was different. That _I_ was different.”

Steve stared in horrified silence.

Bucky continued, ignoring Steve’s inner turmoil. “I remember when I took a shot to the gut. I healed up almost completely in a week. And I was scared. I didn’t know why I was different. I didn’t know what was going on. And I didn’t want you to worry about me.”

Steve was horrified. “You-. You told me it was just a scrape. You wouldn’t let me bandage it for you. You wouldn’t let any of the Howlies help you with the wound. You said it wasn’t that bad, that you could bandage it up yourself. I thought you were just traumatized. From Azzano. That you didn’t want other people doing medical procedures on you.”

Bucky nodded. “Maybe I felt that, too. But I remember. Feeling so desperate because I didn’t want any of you to know. Feeling like I had to hide it no matter what.”

“I’m so sorry.” Steve’s voice came out barely above a whisper.

But Bucky seemed confused. “For what?”

For _everything_ , Steve thought. “For- for not noticing. For being completely fucking oblivious. For making you feel like there was _anything_ , anything at all, that you couldn’t tell me.” Steve wanted to look down, to hide his failures from Bucky. But now that he’d finally found him, he couldn’t take his eyes off him, not even for a second. Steve was afraid that the moment he looked away, Bucky would be gone the next time he looked back. “I just know I should have done more. Checked in with you more. I just should have done _something.”_

It didn’t matter that Bucky felt it wasn’t his fault, because it _was._ Steve remembered how he’d been back then, after rescuing Bucky from Azzano. He’d always paid attention to Bucky, but then, he was so overwhelmed with what it felt like to finally have a body that could do all that he wanted to do. The elation that he felt in finally being able to make a difference. He’d gotten _distracted_ by the responsibility, by all the soldiers who were looking up to him, looking to him for leadership. Too distracted, too caught up in his new abilities to remember what was most important to him, what was always most important to him. Bucky.

And Bucky had suffered for it.


	3. Chapter 3

“So…this werewolf thing.” Steve didn’t quite know where, or to start, with all the questions running through his mind.

“This _werewolf thing,_ ” Bucky mocked.

Steve didn’t know how to start, but maybe he shouldn’t have started like that.

But Steve _was_ glad that Bucky felt comfortable enough to tease him. Anything was better than that blank mask of a face he’d put one when Steve had first found him. So Steve soldiered on. “Shut up. This werewolf thing. How does it work?”

Bucky tilted his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

Maybe there were better ways to go about this, but Steve couldn’t wait. He had to know. “I mean…do you eat. People?”

Bucky slowly raised an eyebrow. Steve got the feeling that Bucky was either mortally offended, or that he was laughing at him.

‘Do I _eat people?”_

Steve nodded.

“No I don’t _eat people,_ Steve! Really? Where the fuck did you get that idea?”

“I don’t know! Werewolves! Pop culture! Those were some mighty sharp teeth I saw out there, Buck!”

Bucky snorted. “Calm down there, Little Red. I don’t eat people.”

Well that was a relief. “What do you eat, then”

“In my wolf form?”

Steve nodded.

“I don’t have to eat anything as a wolf, not if I don’t want to. You have to understand, Steve. I still have full control when I’m a wolf. It’s not like I turn into a wolf, lose control, and go on a vicious rampage. The wolf is just another physical form of me.” Bucky shrugged. “That’s all.”

It seemed to Steve that Bucky might be simplifying the situation a tad too much. But if that was how Bucky wanted to think about it, then that was fine. He was the one who’d lived with it for 70 years, after all.

“What about the full moon? Does that…do anything?”

Bucky sighed. “In a way. I do have to change on the full moon. But it’s not like those werewolves that we saw in the movies. It’s not. Forced. Sudden. No bursting out of my clothes or anything.”

“How does it work then?”

“It just…starts to get really uncomfortable. Kind of.” Steve could see Bucky struggling to explain. “Starting from nightfall. I start to get a little pounding in my head, buzzing in my ears. And it gets worse until I change. I usually change before nightfall, ac tually, to get ahead of it. And when Hydra had me they made sure I changed. They didn’t want to. _Compromise the_ _function_ of their weapon.”

Bucky curled his lip, and Steve bit back a remark about how Hydra could _go_ _fuck themselves._ Now was not the time. And he was sure Bucky had already had the same thought. Many, many times. Fuck, here he was, feeling _horrified_ about it, but Bucky was the one who was actually there. Who’d had to actually _live through it._

\-------

The questions kept coming. 

“ _Why_ did Hydra decide to make you into a werewolf?”

Bucky snorted. “Fuck if I know. They were probably trying to recreate the serum, just like everyone else. They just happened to take a more _occult_ approach, that’s all.

\------

“So, uh, what have you been up to? Lately?

Bucky looked up from where he was taking apart and cleaning a rather massive gun. He raised an eyebrow.

Steve winced. “I meant. Since you’ve been free from Hydra, what have you been up to?”

“Oh, you know,” Bucky waved his hand expansively. “Gallivanting around on rooftops, murdering people, howling at the moon. Trying to navigate everything I’ve done and don’t remember in the past 70 years.” A pause. “Knitting.”

Now it was Steve’s turn to stare blankly.

“What? I can’t spend every single second having nightmares and burning HYDRA into oblivion. Having a hobby is good for your mental health.” He turned to Steve. “What have _you_ been up to? In your free time, that is. I don’t need to hear about all the missions you ran with SHIELD.”

“I-” Steve had not been expecting this line of questioning. He was suddenly assaulted by a montage of his own 21st century free time activities. Running, destroying punching bags at the gym. Reviewing SHIELD dossiers. Riding on subways from one end of the line to the other. Suddenly knitting seemed to be a much healthier activity than all the things he’d been up to. And he realized all of a sudden how completely lost he’d been without Bucky.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at him. “Maybe _you_ should take up knitting.”

Honestly, it didn’t sound like too bad of an idea. “Maybe I should.”

Bucky turned back to cleaning his arsenal of weapons.

“But you’ve been-” Steve hesitated, not wanting to bring up the subject if Bucky wanted to avoid it. But Bucky _had_ been the one to bring it up. “You’ve been hunting Hydra?”

Bucky nodded.

“Okay.” Steve took a breath. “Okay,” he said louder. “I can do that.”

“What?”

“I can do that.”

“Do what?”

Steve hadn’t thought he needed to clarify, but maybe he did. “Help you get rid of Hydra.”

Bucky looked...a little offended. “I’m not asking you to do that.” He frowned. “I don’t need your help.”

“I _know_ you don’t need my help, Buck. I know that you’re perfectly capable of doing it on your own. The thing is, _you don’t have to._ ”

Bucky frowned harder.

“I can just be, I don’t know, helpful.” Steve winced internally at his lack of vocabulary. “Another set of hands and eyes couldn’t hurt, especially considering how squirrelly Hydra can be. I just wanna be around to watch your six.” Steve shrugged, trying not to let on how hard he was struggling to keep his tone _earnest_ , but not _suffocating_. “That’s all, Buck.”

Bucky was silent for a long while, and Steve was about to speak again, to find some way to convince Bucky to let him stay. Then Bucky nodded, mostly to himself. “Okay,” he said.

Steve felt like a 6 year old whose parents just told him he was going to Disneyland. Bucky was here! Right in front of him! He was going to let Steve stick around; he was going to let Steve _help him_!

\---------------

"You know, this base seems to be pretty well-guarded. Maybe even more than what you and I can handle.”

Bucky frowned.

“Sam and Natasha-” Steve trailed off. “They’d be happy to help out.”

Bucky frowned harder.

“I know you and Sam didn’t start out on the best of terms, but he understands with the whole, you know. The whole Winter Soldier thing. He’s a great guy-” Steve trailed off again, not knowing exactly what to say to get Bucky to accept help from other people. He remembered how much convincing Bucky had needed to even accept help from _him_.

“I-” Bucky paused, seeming to mull over his words before letting them out. “I don’t know how they’d take to the,” he waved a hand over himself, “to the _werewolf thing_.” Quieter, “They already think I’m a monster. What will they do when they find out I’m _literally_ a monster?”

Steve was heartbroken. Even with everything he knew about what Bucky was made to do as the Winter Soldier, everything he knew about Bucky being a werewolf, he wouldn’t ever think of Bucky as a monster. And from what he knew of his friends, they wouldn’t either.

“I don’t think they’ll think that, Bucky. I really don’t,” he said quietly.

Bucky was silent.

“And we really could use their help on this.”

Still, Bucky was silent. Steve thought he would stay that way until he finally spoke up. “I shot Natalia.” He chuckled humorlessly. “I shot her twice, actually.” He looked up at Steve. “Did you know that?”

“I did, actually. She told me.”

“You really think she’ll forgive me after that?”

“Well-” Steve wanted to tread carefully, but he’d never really minced his words around Bucky, and he wasn’t about to start. “Well, you shot me three times. And I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Bucky barked out a laugh, louder than anything he’d said previously. He was smiling. It’d been a long time since Steve had last seen Bucky’s smile, and it shot through him like a dose of caffeine, bright, energizing, infectious.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re still here,” Bucky agreed. “Rogers, you stubborn bastard.”

“And out of anyone, I’m sure Nat would understand what it’s like, to be forced to do things you’re not proud of. Hell, we both worked for SHIELD. Who knows how many good people, innocent people we might’ve killed before we found out that SHIELD was actually Hydra. It’s not your fault. If anyone, it’s Hydra’s. And maybe mine for not trying harder to save you.”

Bucky shot Steve an incredulous look. “There is no way in _hell_ that’s _your_ fault.”

Steve silently disagreed. “But the point is, Buck. We’re all working towards redemption. Let us help you.”

Bucky was silent, and Steve held his breath.

Then, Bucky nodded. “Alright.” He blew out a breath. “Alright, Rogers, you damn stubborn _bastard_. You call you friends, figure out where we can all meet up. It’ll be a party.”

“Okay.” Steve reached into his pocket for his phone. He still was reluctant to take his eyes off Bucky, for fear that the second he dragged his eyes away, that Bucky wouldn’t be there when he looked back. “Okay,” he said, again.

Bucky smiled tightly. “I’m not gonna disappear on ya, pal.” As always, Bucky seemed to be able to read his mind.

“Okay,” Steve said, a third time. He turned and walked towards the door, but then changed his mind. “You know what,” he said, “I’ll just call them right here. That way you can hear everything.”

“I’d probably still be able to hear everything if you went outside. But thanks.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t wanna keep any secrets from you Buck.”

Bucky nodded. “Go on.”

Steve dialed Sam’s number from memory. He tried not to fidget as he listened to it ring, waiting for Sam to pick up.

The ringing stopped. Steve heard breathing on the other end, but other than that, silence. “Sam?” he tried.

“Goddamn, it _is_ you. What the fuck happened to you? You just fuckin disappeared! You better not be calling because you got fucking captured and you’re now a hostage.”

Steve chuckled. “No, Sam. Nothing like that.”

“Well then, you better have a good explanation for why you up and disappeared on us, Rogers.”

“Sorry about that. You know I wouldn’t have gone dark unless it was important. But listen, Sam. Is- is Nat there? There’s been a- um, there’s been a _development_.” Steve wasn’t very good at spy talk, but he tried to imbue that word with a sort of nonchalant emphasis, hoping Sam would know what he meant. From the sound of Bucky’s snort behind him, it seemed he wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

“Ohhh. A _development_ , huh.” Well, it _seemed_ like Sam had maybe figured out what he meant. Take that, Bucky. “Nat’s not right here, but she just went out, so she should be close by. I’ll contact her.”

“That’s- thanks. Thanks, Sam.”

“Uh huh. So what’s the plan? We meeting somewhere? Or are you just gonna keep calling us with your updates?”

“Umm, I-” Steve looked over at Bucky. He gave a shrug, hoping it conveyed how much he didn’t know what the plan was.

“They can meet us here. It’s just a motel.”

Steve nodded. “Um, Sam? When Natasha gets back can you call me back? Same number. I have a location for us to meet.”

“Alright. You stay safe, Steve.” Sam was abruptly serious.

“I will, Sam. Don’t worry about me.”

Steve heard another snort from behind him. He turned around to glare at Bucky after he hung up. “What?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Bucky mocked. “As if you don’t give everyone around you good reason to worry. You confronted a dangerous werewolf, on your own, _unarmed,_ without any fucking backup, and-”

Steve had to interrupt. “You’re not dangerous, Buck. Not to me.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh, put upon. But he didn’t seem to want to push this argument tonight. Neither did Steve, when it came down to it. But he’d keep saying it, no matter how many times Bucky denied it. Bucky wasn’t a monster. 

Natasha called while Steve was still staring at Bucky, which wasn’t a very good descriptor considering that Steve had been attempting to continuously stare at Bucky for the past few hours. He couldn’t help himself. He kept feeling like if he looked away, even for a second, that Bucky would disappear into the wind, like he had after destroying all those other bases. But Natasha did call, so Steve had to tear his eyes away. (Not for very long, because he could still stare while talking on the phone, thank you very much.)

“So. I hear you have an explanation for why you disappeared on us.”

“Sorry, Nat. But yeah, I do. I- um, I found Bucky.”

“Yeah, we’d figured that was the only reason why you’d go radio silent and call us up now. Either that or you’re being held for ransom.”

Steve chose to ignore that jab. He deserved it, after all, for making his friends worry. “Bucky’s agreed to let us help him with the Boston base. He wants to meet up with you guys.”

Natasha was silent for a bit. Steve figured she was probably surprised that Bucky had actually agreed to work with them.

“Where are we meeting?”

“I’ll text you coordinates. And listen, Natasha. I’m fine. I really am. And so is Bucky. He’s agreed to work with us on this. He’s not hostile, he’s not being violent He’s not dangerous. So you guys don’t need to come here armed to the teeth and all hostile towards him. I mean- it’d be nice if you guys could come armed to the teeth because we’re going to be taking on a Hydra base, but, you know what I mean, right? Be nice.”

Natasha hummed. “I’d argue the point that he’s not dangerous, because he is. But whatever you say, Rogers. We’ll play nice. And we’ll be there in two hours.” She hung up.

“She’s right, you know.” Steve turned around at the sound of Bucky’s voice. “I _am_ dangerous.”

Steve barely refrained from rolling his eyes. He wanted to but he figured it wouldn’t be respectful. His mama did teach him his manners, after all. “Bucky, please. We’ve been over this. You’re dangerous. I’m dangerous. It doesn’t matter. I told you. You’re my friend, and I’m with you ‘till the end of the line. The line doesn’t stop just because one of us gained the ability to bend steel with our bare hands. Fuck, if that were the case, you would’ve abandoned me after Azzano, just because I became ‘dangerous.’ I’m not gonna abandon you just because you were, what? Held captive for 70 years and forced to kill people? None of that is your fault, first of all. And honestly, in the grand scheme of things, that’s not that bad, Buck.”

“Not that bad?” Bucky was incredulous. “I shot you. _Three times,_ Steve. And broke your face besides.”

“It doesn’t matter, Buck. It really doesn’t. What, are you really expecting me to abandon you just like that?”

“You should.”

“ _Bullshit._ And what if it were me, captured by Hydra, tortured, and forced to hurt people against my will?

Bucky flinched, and Steve could see how much he was repulsed by the thought of _Steve_ being captured by Hydra. But he kept pushing. He knew he wouldn’t be able to just erase all of Bucky’s doubts, but he sure as hell could try. He _had_ to make sure Bucky knew how much he meant to him, how much it would kill him if he ran and disappeared on him again.

“Would you abandon me like you’re expecting me to? Would you blame me? Resent me?”

Bucky’s eyes grew wide.

“Hate me, even?”

“No! Of course not!”

“Then why would you expect me to do the same? Do you really have such little faith in me?”

Bucky was silent. Finally, he spoke. “No. I do have faith in you. If I had faith in anything after the _shit_ I’ve been through, Steve, it would be you.”

“Then trust me when I say that I’m with you. ‘Till the end of the line, Buck. And even after that. You’re stuck with me.”

Bucky was silent again.

“Okay,” he said, looking at Steve. “Okay.”

\-------------

Natasha and Sam arrived in two hours, just as they said they would. 

Steve was the one to open the door as Bucky lingered further back in the room. 

Sam clapped him on the shoulder. “Long time no see. Nice to see you, buddy.”

Natasha shouldered past them, and Steve watched as she checked the room for bugs. Bucky watched her in kind, but she didn’t say a word. 

“Okay,” Steve took a breath. “Okay.” Steve felt like he said that a lot these days, trying to smooth everything over. He felt- nervous? A little jittery? It was hard to describe. Without a doubt, Sam and Natasha were his closest friends here in this strange, bright future he’d somehow found himself in. Sam especially, because Sam was a friend he’d made, all by himself! Without intervention from SHIELD or the Avengers or anything! And sure he had been wary of Natasha at first, because of all the ~spy stuff~, because he was very much a soldier and not a spy, but they _had_ grown close in the past year. Working together to discover that your employers were actually a fascist shadow agency from World War II did that to you. Steve might still not know all of her secrets, but he was ok with that, and he would trust her with his like. He wanted them to like Bucky, and for Bucky to like them, because even if he’d never said it out loud, he knew Bucky was his sun, his anchor, his everything. Now that he knew Bucky was alive, he couldn’t live without Bucky and he wasn’t going to try.

Steve pushed his nerves aside as best as he could. “Sam, Nat, this is Bucky. Bucky, this is Sam, and Natasha.”

He may have been surprised by the casual introduction, by Steve pretending that they were just four normal people leading four normal lives, meeting at a bar or a house party or something, but Sam didn’t show it. He just stepped forward with his palm out. Good old Sam. 

“We’ve met,” he said, shaking Bucky’s hand, “but it sure is nice to meet you again, now that you’re no longer ripping the steering wheel out of my car in the middle of the I-66.”

“I-what?” Bucky frowned.

“Remember? Like two days before Insight was set to launch? You show up out of fucking nowhere, land on the roof of my car, rip out my steering wheel in the middle of the freeway, then plaster Jasper Sitwell all over the grille of a big rig?”

Bucky frowned harder. “I- I don’t.” 

Then, his expression cleared. “I was wiped.” He turned to Steve. “I recognized you, somehow, and I said so to Pierce.” His face went blank as he stared at nothing, remembering. “Pierce gave the order to wipe me again, even though it’d been less than 36 hours since my last wipe.” He lowered his eyes, and his voice dropped. “I remember the pain from the wipes, even if I don’t remember anything else.” 

He turned back to Sam. “That’s why I don’t remember. Though I _am_ sorry for ripping out your steering wheel.”

Sam stood in uncharacteristic silence. Steve was horrified. Hydra had wiped Bucky, _twice,_ in less than 36 hours, just because he’d _remembered him?_

Steve remembered seeing the chair, with its metal cuffs and reinforced restraints, that horrific headpiece, that Natasha said had electrodes aimed to target specific parts of the brain. When Steve found out that they had used it on _Bucky_ , to take his memories, to control him, he’d nearly blacked out in rage. The guilt, and the sadness came later, when he’d broken down in the shower, crying over his best friend, who might not even remember him, might not remember anything, who’d had his memories ripped out of him, who’d been forced and tortured into doing Hydra’s bidding. 

Sam was the one to speak up. “Okay. Let’s get this plan down. So that we can burn this base to the ground, get these Hydra fuckers into prison, get this over with so I can go home in time for my mom’s birthday.”

Everyone was silent as they all stared at Bucky, wondering how he would react. He cracked a small smile. “Well, if it’s your mom’s _birthday-_ ”

\-------------

They attacked the base at sunset. The ambiance was great, the lighting was beautiful. For them, that was. Most of the guard stations faced west of the base, and so the guards were forced to squint into the sun as Bucky picked them off one by one. 

The base itself- well, it may have been difficult to take with just himself, Sam, and Natasha. Bucky might have had a hard time doing it on his own, but the four of them together could hardly be stopped by anything the Hydra base threw at them. 

For the first time in 70 years, Steve was overcome with that wondrous feeling of _team_ , just as he had felt fighting alongside the Howling Commandos, back in the European Theatre. Maybe he had felt it with the Avengers as well, fighting during the Battle of Manhattan, but that was different, that was an _invasion,_ they were working together out of duty, and vengeance, and with a near overdose of adrenaline besides. And Bucky hadn’t been there with him.

He’d missed it. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed that feeling until he’d had it back. That feeling of Bucky watching his six, reliable as he had ever been, of working, fighting alongside people whom he wouldn’t hesitate to trust with his life.

They drilled through the base with a frightening sort of efficiency. Everything was going swimmingly, until it wasn’t. 

A sudden, burning, _something_ tore through Steve’s abdomen, and the force behind it threw him to the floor. 

Steve heard Sam’s shout, “Sniper!” through the comms at the same moment he heard Bucky yell his name, like a scream torn out of his throat. Something, some instinct, caused Steve to jerk out of the way, just as another, a high-caliber bullet undoubtedly, shot into the pavement where his head had been.

From his position on the floor, Steve had a decent view as Bucky practically launched himself up 25 feet, climbed over scaffolding, and slit the sniper’s throat.

Steve tried to regulate his breathing. There was blood in his mouth from where he’d bit his tongue, trying to keep from screaming. The pain was _incredible._ Delirious, he thought, _huh, so this is what a high-cal through the gut feels like. I’ve never felt this before._

Bucky’s face appeared in his field of vision. His face was pale, his eyes wide. “Steve! Steve!” Hands on him, covering him. “I’ve got you, I’m here. Steve please- please.” 

Steve wanted to tell him that it was ok, but he couldn’t quite figure out how to unclench his jaw, how to get the words to come out. 

Natasha’s face appeared. More hands on him. “Okay, okay,” he heard her say. “They’re regrouping. Come on. We have to take out the rest of this base before Hydra has time to regroup- he’ll probably be fine.”

Bucky whirled on her. “Probably?!”

“Come on, Soldier. Focus. The first priority is taking out Hydra before they regroup enough to capture him or finish him off. Then we can get him out of here, but we need to take out Hydra first. We can’t _do_ anything with 30 people shooting at us.”

“Guys, I need a little help up here!” Sam? Steve realized Sam was probably still fighting, working to draw Hydra fire away from where Steve was laying on the floor. Stray bullets flew past them, punctuating Natasha’s words.

Steve clasped Bucky’s hand. “Go. I’ll be okay. Natasha-” Steve grunted in pain. “Natasha’s right. Go.”

Bucky tightened his grip on Steve’s hand, eyes wide with fear and worry. Steve wanted him close, Steve wanted him to stay, but Natasha was right. If anything else went wrong, they’d be in more danger than they were now. If anything else went wrong- he had- he had to-

Steve had hid his feelings for Bucky his entire life. Now, at nearly 100 years old, bleeding out on the ground in a Hydra base, if now wasn’t the time to gather his courage and actually _do something about it,_ then what was? The voice at the back of his mind told him he might not get another chance.

Through the sharp, stinging haze of pain, Steve mustered up his courage. He gripped the back of Bucky’s neck, trying to pull him down, _just a little._ He probably wasn’t actually exerting much strength, but Bucky came closer anyway. 

Steve lifted his head, fitting his mouth to Bucky’s. 

“Just- just in case, Buck. Sorry for the bad timing. I love you, I’ve always loved you. Go, I’ll be fine.”

Bucky didn’t move. He stared at Steve. 

“Soldier?” Natasha was still there too, right, Steve had nearly forgotten.

If Bucky didn’t want him-. If Bucky didn’t want him, well- 

Bucky cut off his thoughts with a fierce kiss.

Oh.

“Go. Go, finish off Hydra, and come back to me. I’ll be fine. I promise, Buck.”

Bucky opened his mouth to say something, but Sam interrupted him. “GUYS! Y’all are really cute and everything but THIS IS NOT THE TIME!”

Another stray bullet whizzed past Bucky, and he snarled. “I’ll finish this off. You sit your ass right here, _don’t you dare move._ ”

Steve nodded.

Bucky whirled, towards the Hydra shooters, and he _changed._ Steve couldn’t quite comprehend what was happening, but neither could anyone else, he suspected. _Magic._ Whatever the fuck. But where Bucky had been, there now was a wolf, standing on two hind legs, wearing the same tac gear, and still bristling with the full armory that Bucky had carried into combat. He launched himself into the surviving Hydra agents, tearing through the nearest shooters with ease.

“What the fuck?!”

Oh right, Sam didn’t know. Steve turned his head towards Natasha. Her expression was frozen, carefully hiding her shock. But her eyes were wide, and Steve knew her well enough to read her surprise nonetheless. 

"He's a fucking werewolf?!" Sam, on the other hand, made no effort to hide his own surprise.

Natasha was calmer about it. "Well, we’ve met aliens, and Norse gods, and giant space whales. Why not throw werewolves into the mix, too?"

"Did you know?" Sam asked.

Steve couldn't tell much through the haze of pain and his throbbing abdomen, but it seemed that Natasha had intercepted a Hydra agent who'd been on his way to Steve, and had thrown him into a wall. She straightened, and took a breath. 

"No, I didn't know." She didn't seem happy about it. Steve guessed that Natasha wasn't used to not knowing things. 

In the background, Bucky tore through the remaining Hydra agents with the ease of about 2.5 supersoldiers.

Sam and Natasha blinked. 

Then, Sam turned his questioning to Steve. "Did you know?"

"Nnng," Steve tried to speak through the throbbing pain that had started in his abdomen but that now radiated through his entire body.

"Sam, why don't you save the questioning for later and put your first aid skills to the test on this bullet wound huh?"

"Ooh, right, sorry." Steve heard a whooshing noise (presumably Sam landing somewhere near him), then another set of hands (Sam's) somewhere on his abdomen.

"Okay, Nat. Keep pressure on the wound. I've got pressure bandages in my pack."

Steve blacked out a little as Natasha put her weight on the wound. He woke up to Bucky’s (human) hands on his face, and he may have been delirious with pain and probably a lot of blood loss, yet he couldn’t help but smile. He was alive, Bucky was alive, Bucky was _here._ They were _together._ _Of course_ he had reason to smile. 

“Bucky.” Steve kept smiling. He clasped Bucky’s flesh hand where it rested against his cheek. “You’re here.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, “I’m here, Stevie. I’m here.” His voice was hoarse and his face was covered in soot and grime, but he was still the most beautiful thing Steve had ever seen. 

Sam and Natasha exchanged wary glances from where they kneeled on either side of Steve, but neither said a word. The silence surrounding them was conspicuous compared to the loud barrage of gunshots during the firefight. Bucky leaned in closer.

“I love you, Buck. It wasn’t just the adrenaline or whatever, it’s the truth.” It hurt to talk, but like hell was Steve going to leave this unsaid. “And if you don’t feel the same-” that hurt even more to think about, but Peggy’s voice, _freedom of choice_ , ran through his mind, and Steve wasn’t going to take Bucky’s choices away from him, not after everything he’d been through. “If that kiss was just adrenaline on your part- you don’t need to humor me, Buck, it’s ok, I-”

But Bucky interrupted him. “You dumb fucking punk, Steve. That wasn’t just adrenaline. Wasn’t just me thinking that you might die. It wasn’t any of that. I love you too.” 

Happiness burst inside of Steve, almost overshadowing the pain from the bullet wound.

But no. Bucky was leaning back again, drawing further away from Steve.

Why? Why was Bucky going away?

“But,” Bucky hesitated. “I’m a werewolf Steve. An actual monster. I don’t- you don’t- you _shouldn’t_ -”

Steve was suddenly, abruptly angry. “To hell with shouldn’t. I’m not gonna make choices for you Buck, but you shouldn’t make choices for me, either. To _hell_ with _shouldn’t_. _I don’t give a fuck._ I don’t care that you’re a werewolf.”

Bucky still looked doubtful, so Steve pressed on. “I love you. And you said you love me, so please, _please_ don’t leave me. Don’t leave because you think it’ll protect me, Buck. I don’t need that. All I need is you.”

Bucky was silent for a moment, but then he leaned in again, until he was face to face with Steve. “I love you too. And I’m not gonna leave you, never again.”

Steve hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath, but he breathed out a sigh of relief. His side exploded with pain, and he was abruptly reminded that he had just been shot in the gut with a high-caliber bullet.

They were in the middle of a Hydra base that they still had to burn. Steve had just gotten shot. He had to explain to Sam, Natasha, and the rest of the Avengers how Bucky was a werewolf. All over the world, there stood a number of Hydra bases they still needed to take out.

But when Steve reached up, ignoring the pain, and gripped Bucky by the back of his neck for a kiss, Bucky came willingly, and his lips met Steve’s. Bucky was here. Bucky was staying. Bucky loved him. How was anything else supposed to matter?


End file.
